


It's Okay

by orphan_account



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, getting over tht guys suicide, idk i just really needed to write about connor, mentions of suicide and disordered eating!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:59:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor gets night terrors and wakes up panicked. Oliver comforts him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Okay

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm only on episode 8 so please no spoilers!!
> 
> I'm super addicted to this show now that it's on Netflix bc I love love love creative storytelling (not to mention tht theres actual Real Life Gays TM). Tbh, I find Connor's story the saddest, since- I guess- I can kind of relate to him the most. Plus also I have a deep ancient feeling that I must protect all of my fellow gays and that means Connor (and Oliver oh Lord, my dearest son). Anyways, I just really needed to write Connor getting over Paxton's death since it seemed like it rly fucked him up. Sorry if this sucks, I haven't written in a few months :/

 

Connor had never been an easy sleeper- tossing and turning, mumbling and waking up panting, but nothing that Oliver could not deal with. Once, in his sleep, he had scream in pain, only to not remember as he was rushed awake. But this night was unlike others.

Panicked, Connor’s eyes rolled underneath his eyelids. He had one hand in a death grip on the sheets, another about to rip his own scalp off. “Connor-hey-hey, wake up-you’re alright.” Oliver sat up, pulling a bedside light on. Another night-terror, as obvious to see, but something was different when Connor’s eyes slid open, eyes glazed, but frightened,  starring-but not focused- on the white ceiling. His eyes were bloodshot and burning.

“You’re alright, hey, I’m here.” Oliver whispered.

Connor opened his mouth to speak, but found his mouth too dry to form words. Of course, Oliver knew this. “Water?”

Connor nodded, his knuckles still white on the blanket. He tripped getting up, the comforter slipping off onto the floor. “Do you want to talk about it?” Oliver handed over a blue plastic cup, the name of an air base was printed on the side in fading gold. Connor took a gulp and passed the cup back. He still had a dead look on his eyes as he stumbled over to the window, looking down down into the street below. “You don’t have to- if you don’t want to.” Oliver looked to the analog clock by their bedside, it read 3:42 AM. He sighed.

Connor mumbled something, high and rasp.

“What?”

Again, another undistinguishable noise cut from his gut. He looked closer and found that the he was shaking. A boy wrapped up in a tattered blanket, cold and holy, but not enough to be a saint. “I killed him.” He whispered, his hands rigid at his chest, clutching the ghost of the blue cup that was now on the nightstand. His knees buckled from underneath him and he fell to the ground, mouth tipped open like a drowning child. “I- I never told youI’msorryIdidn’tno-“

Oliver climbed over to him and slid down the wall, their legs touching. Connor’s body locked up, he looked over and found his boyfriend’s eyes, sleep still in the corners. He laughed and wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. The guilt was a small immeasurably dense pebble caught in the base of his throat. He had been trying to cough it up for months, had lapsed into silence for a week, and forgot to eat several days in a row, before Oliver had forced him to at least _drink_ something with protein. He made him a fruit smoothie. Connor threw it up in the bathroom as soon as Oliver left for work.

“God, it was just stupid, and I told her and then he _fell out the window.”_ He gasped suddenly. Oliver jerked back into consciousness. “And-and-and t-to make it worse? I laughed-laughed at it! I need to-to get out of here.”

How was Oliver supposed to respond to that? Of course he had already heard what happened, but Connor never talked about it. “Hey- you’re alright- you’re fine here, this is real, just relax.” He spoke softly as he began to breath too fast.

Connor’s hands shake in mid air, unable to grasp anything. “I’m-“ He gasps, “S-sorry”

“Oh, come here.” Oliver brings him close and squeezes, Connor breaths in hoarse, short puffs, but his body practically melts in his love’s arms. “You’re fine- I love you- this is real.” He whispers into his shoulder.

They pass out on the floor, and Oliver wakes up just before the alarm on his phone goes off. He taps his phone and gets ready for work. As he buttons up his shirt, he looks over at Connor, huddled underneath the window. With a small laugh, he pulls the quilted blanket off from where it had been throw down, and gently rests it over him. “Goodmorning.” He smiles before leaving.

“Morning.” Connor says, mostly asleep, his eyes not even opening. “Love… you.”

“Love you too.”


End file.
